They are never well-dressed exactly, but
wherever they encamp they appear to discard clothing enough for two or
three persons, clothing which, though I should not personally like to
make use of it, still appears to be serviceable enough. I suppose it is
a part of the haphazard life of the open air, and that if a tramp gets
an old coat given him which is better than his own, he just leaves the
old one behind him at the next halting-place.
The chalk-pit to-day was full of cowslips and daisies, the former in
quite incredible profusion. I suppose it is a cowslip year. The common
plants seem to have cycles, and almost each year has a succession of
characteristic flowers, which have found, I suppose, the particular
arrangements of the season suit them; or rather, I suppose that an
outburst of a particular flower in a particular year shows that the
previous year was a good seeding-time. This year has been remarkable
for two plants so far, a sort of varnished green ground-weed, with a
small white flower, and a dull crimson dead-nettle; both of them have
covered the ground in places in huge patches. This is both strange and
pleasant, I think.
I loitered about in my chalk-pit for a while; noted a new flower that
sprinkled the high grassy ledges that I had never seen there before;
and then sate down in a little dingle that commanded a wide view of the
fen.
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